Phillips Indian Educators

Big Bear was not warning his people about war.

He was warning them about promises.

By the 1870s, life on the Canadian Prairies was changing rapidly.

The buffalo herds that had sustained Plains First Nations for generations were collapsing.

Settlers were moving west.

The Canadian government wanted treaties signed.

And many Indigenous nations faced a terrible choice:

Sign.

Or starve.

Among the strongest voices of caution was a Plains Cree leader named Mistahimaskwa — known to history as Big Bear.

Unlike many leaders, Big Bear resisted signing Treaty 6.

Not because he wanted conflict.

Because he believed his people deserved better terms.

He argued that First Nations should negotiate together as one united force instead of signing separate agreements.

A united nation would be harder to ignore.

The government disagreed.

As food shortages worsened and buffalo disappeared, pressure mounted.

Eventually Big Bear's band signed Treaty 6 in 1882.

But Big Bear never stopped warning people.

He believed government promises sounded generous on paper but would be very different in reality.

Then came 1885.

Tensions exploded across the Prairies during the North-West Resistance.

Big Bear tried repeatedly to avoid violence.

Yet events quickly moved beyond anyone's control.

At Frog Lake, several settlers and officials were killed during a violent confrontation involving some of Big Bear's followers.

Big Bear neither planned nor ordered the killings.

In fact, witnesses later testified that he attempted to prevent bloodshed.

It did not matter.

When the conflict ended, Ottawa wanted people to blame.

Big Bear became one of them.

He was arrested.

Put on trial.

And convicted of treason-felony.

The sentence shocked many observers.

A man who had spent years urging negotiation and restraint was now being punished as if he had started the war himself.

He was sent to prison at Stony Mountain Penitentiary.

His health rapidly declined.

After serving part of his sentence, he was released because officials feared he would die behind bars.

They were not wrong.

In January 1888, Big Bear died.

He never saw the future he had hoped for.

But many of the concerns he raised never disappeared.

Broken promises.

Land disputes.

Treaty rights.

Government control over Indigenous lives.

More than a century later, these issues remain at the center of conversations across Canada.

Big Bear is remembered today not because he won a war.

But because he saw the consequences long before they arrived.

He warned that a treaty without trust would become a source of suffering.

History has never stopped debating whether he was right.

Imagine signing a contract, having the other party violate it, and then being told that a cash settlement generations later should make everything right.

That's essentially the argument at the heart of the Black Hills dispute.

The United States didn't simply make a promise. It signed a treaty.

Under the Constitution, treaties are part of the supreme law of the land. They're not suggestions. They're not campaign promises. They're not Facebook posts that can be deleted when they become inconvenient.

They're supposed to be binding agreements.

The 1868 Treaty of Fort Laramie recognized the Black Hills as part of Sioux territory. Then gold was discovered.

Funny how often principles become flexible when money is involved.

The government violated the treaty, seized the land, and decades later the Supreme Court itself acknowledged that the Black Hills had been taken unlawfully. The proposed remedy was money.

The response from many Sioux tribes was essentially: "We didn't ask for a check. We asked for our land."

That's what makes the current development so important.

All nine tribal nations in South Dakota have now joined together to push the issue in court and through legislation.

Not one tribe.

Not two.

All nine.

Because this isn't some obscure historical grievance from the distant past. It's a dispute over a treaty that was never honored and a legal obligation that was never fulfilled.

For generations, politicians have loved to talk about the Constitution, the rule of law, property rights, and honoring agreements.

Well, here's a treaty.

Here's a signed agreement.

Here's a legal obligation recognized by the highest court in the country.

The question is whether those principles apply universally or only when they're convenient.

Because if treaties are the supreme law of the land, then they have to mean something.

Otherwise they're just pieces of paper backed by power, and history has already shown us where that road leads.

Imagine if every major decision made today had to answer one question:

“How will this affect people seven generations from now?”

That idea exists in many Native American traditions through the philosophy often called the “Seven Generations” principle — the belief that decisions should consider their impact far into the future.

Think about how different the modern world might look if governments, corporations, and societies operated that way.

Would forests be disappearing as fast?
Would oceans be polluted?
Would short-term profit outweigh long-term survival?

The philosophy is powerful because it forces humanity to think beyond immediate gain.

Modern culture often rewards speed, consumption, and instant results.
The Seven Generations mindset rewards responsibility.

It recognizes something ancient cultures understood deeply:

We do not inherit the Earth from our ancestors.
We borrow it from our descendants.

That perspective may be one of the most important lessons humanity needs.

On Education: "...With regard to American Indians, this means understanding that "the Indian Problem" is not a problem of children and families but rather, first and foremost,a problem that has been consciously and historically produced by and through the system of colonization: a multidimensional force underwritten by Western Christianity, defined by white supremacy, and fueled by global capitalism."--from Red Pedagogy

This powerful image captures White Moon, a Northern Cheyenne who fought in the historic Battle of Little Bighorn. Decades after the battle, he is seen holding a Springfield carbine taken from a U.S. 7th Cavalry soldier during the conflict.

The photograph is more than just a portrait. It represents survival, memory, and history carried forward through one individual’s life. White Moon lived through one of the most significant battles between Native American forces and the U.S. Army, where combined Lakota, Cheyenne, and Arapaho warriors defeated Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer’s regiment.

By holding the rifle years later, he preserves a direct connection to that moment in history—a physical reminder of resistance and endurance.

Images like this challenge us to look beyond objects as simple relics of war. They tell stories of people, identity, and lived experience.

What may appear as a weapon is also a symbol of survival carried not just in hand, but in memory across generations.